


When Blue Meets Red

by DestielDestiny



Series: The Students of Regent High [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Drug Use, Trans Character, Wakes & Funerals, Weddings, id add other tags but theyd ruin the plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 03:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5852056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestielDestiny/pseuds/DestielDestiny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been nearly ten years since their not-so-happy endings happened. Hunter and Robert stuck by each other through that time, and Ryan and Max are together. Unfortunately, things are about to get shaken up a lot before they can hit their final happy endings. <br/>(PS--so Dean's backstory isn't up yet, but if all goes well it will be soon. Just know that he went to Regent as well, so he and Hunter knew each other before.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Blue Meets Red

**Author's Note:**

> Again: unbeta'd, not part of a fandom, and can be standalone. This one is one of my favourite ones of this series, so do with that what you will.

Funerals were never for the dead. I realized that as the heels of my dress shoes clicked through the entryway to the church.

I had known Andrea well enough. She was smart, and funny, and smiled too much. I knew that her dying had to take a toll on people. I also knew that I’d seen Dean curled up in a corner crying like I’d never seen him cry. He’d always stood tall, never wavering, strong. And then, when she died, he collapsed.

It was only after her death that he began to cling to me, like I was the sun and he was stuck in orbit. I didn’t know if I liked it or hated it. Dean would get close, almost too close, before pulling away, and it frustrated me. I knew it wasn’t his fault, it really wasn’t, but I was pushing myself silently through my own shit. Even though Dean was always more important, had been since I was a sophomore in college.

As I stepped over the threshold, into a church I hadn’t stepped foot in since I was fifteen and my cousin was being baptized, I realized the reason I’d been hoping Andrea’s funeral wouldn’t be in a church was the very thing that made fifteen year old me and twenty six year old me so different: twenty six year old me accepted that he was gay, embraced it even. Twenty six year old me had a boyfriend and could wear rainbows and smile. Twenty six year old me had Dean and Rob and so many other friends. Fifteen year old me had been alone.

_Dean._

He saw me standing in the doorway almost immediately, made eye contact with me, but I didn’t know if he expected me to go to him.

I wanted to.

I wanted to go to him and pull him tightly against my chest and make sure he knew he wasn’t alone, but then I remembered. That entire idea touched down on just a little too gay. Not that gay was wrong to either of us, but Dean wasn’t and I was and I had a boyfriend.

And then, after that thought crossed my mind, I wondered why gay had even touched it at all. It was affection towards my friend, my best friend. I was allowed to hug him and protect him from a world that was cruel. I had the right to care about him.

“Hunter?” Dean’s voice cracked in a way that made me sure he’d been crying. His suit was crooked and his blonde hair was askew, and I almost— _almost—_ could have imagined us in a very different, much more pleasurable situation. The church was mostly empty, its only occupants a casket, Dean, Andrea’s mother, and me. Andrea’s mother glanced up from where she’d been staring, unseeing, at the cross above the altar. She granted me a small smile of acknowledgement before her eyes flitted back to the wooden cross. Dean, in contrast, turned to me, caught my gaze with his own, and left me standing there heavy with the knowledge of how broken he was.

I crossed the room, weaving between rows of pews as I walked. Dean stood, leaning against a pillar near the choir area. He looked completely exhausted, and resigned, and not at all like the normally light and flirty and proud man that he normally was.

I pressed a hand to his arm, opening myself up for contact. It was something I’d long since become accustomed to with him. You couldn’t ask him for a hug, nor could you just walk up and give him one out of the blue; you had to touch him, gently, in a way that suggested it. I hadn’t understood it at first, but after I learned everything Dean had gone through in the short span of his life, I had grown to understand, at least partially.

Dean wrapped his arms around my neck, having to stand on his tiptoes to reach. I allowed myself to encompass his waist, my hands splayed against his back. His head leaned into my chest, his hair hitting against my chin. It was intimate, almost overwhelmingly so. I was letting myself get too close, but I convinced myself that, just once, it would be okay.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” I whispered, rubbing my hand in circles on his back. I felt him nod into my chest. Somehow, I knew it _would_ be okay. Everything would turn out alright, in the end. Dean was Dean. He was resilient, he was sharp, he was lucky as hell. Dean was kind and quick and fucking gorgeous, and _mine._

I shook my head, careful not to disrupt Dean anymore that I already had. Dean was not mine, not in any sense of the word. He was my friend, he was a former classmate, but that as far as my claim on him went.

Hearing a surge of footsteps, comparable to a stampede of elephants, I pulled back, releasing him. It was only after sitting down in my seat that I realized how tightly Dean had been holding on. And then, it was only after Dean had started waving frantically at me from his seat in the reserved section that it occurred to me how much that hug resembled what he used to do with Andrea. Then, after I found myself sitting in the front row with most of Dean curled up in my lap, my hand against his hip, that I realized how long he’d let me do it, and how long I let myself hold onto him.

And, because we were in church and laughing out loud would be highly inappropriate, I smiled to myself, as I had just done something _very_ gay in the presence of Andrea’s ghost and whatever god was out there watching me.

 

I met up with Ryan a few hours after the funeral, after the odd luncheon that consisted only of about ten people, after Dean had fallen asleep on my chest back at our apartment when I was lying on the couch watching the soccer game.

Okay, yes, I lived with Dean, but that wasn’t from lack of trying from Robert to get me into his apartment a few miles away. He had been trying desperately to get me to move in with him for years, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I could not force myself to live with Rob full time. I could spend the night a few times a week, I could even spend the day there sometimes, but I couldn’t live with him.

Dean was my roommate, and had been for a while. I liked it, not living alone, but not necessarily having someone there 24/7. He’d spent most of his time at Andrea’s place before she had gotten really bad. The cancer hit her hard the last year, and Dean had been spending more and more time at home. More and more time talking to me. More and more time being the warmth against me, a constant presence against my shoulder or my chest.

Ryan had suggested I not bring Dean with me, and I had agreed. I eased myself out from underneath him, which ended up more along the lines of me picking him up and placing him gently in his bed. Our couch wasn’t the most comfortable thing, and had been the cheapest thing two people who didn’t have excellent jobs could afford.

I met up with him at a small coffee shop down the street. I didn’t go there often, due to my aversion to coffee in general, but I found that their hot chocolate was more than adequate.

“How’re you doing?” Ryan asked me as we walked through the doors, the small bell clanging as it slammed shut behind us. I hung my sopping wet jacket on a hook and scraped my shoes against the rug. I was shamelessly stalling.

I waited until we sat down across from each other at a small table in an isolated corner before replying to him. “I didn’t know Andrea that well.”

“I know, but Dean did.” Ryan tapped his fingers against the table, a habit he’d had since I’d known him, something he’d picked up from being a drummer.

“Yeah,” I said, remembering the look on his face when I stood in the doorway. I was supposed to be in California, a business trip, my boss had told me several weeks before. I’d told him I would do it, but canceled five days before I was scheduled to leave on the grounds that I needed to be in Portland. My boss had threatened me with a firing if I didn’t go, but Andrea had just died, and Dean was refusing to come out of his room. I couldn’t leave him. He was more important. I guess I had just forgotten to tell him I’d refused the trip.

“If you’re okay,” Ryan cleared his throat, then swallowed hard, “then how’s he holding up?”

“Dean’s…Well, it’s Dean.” I said. It really explained everything. Dean would only show how hurt he was when there was nothing left for anyone else to do. He’d refuse to let anyone help him. “How’s Max?”

Ryan cracked a smile at that, losing his solemn demeanor. “She’s great. Oh, god, Hunter, she’s fantastic.”

“Yeah?”

“She’s pregnant.”

I had to smile myself at that. Both of them had come a long way to still be standing where they were, but she’d probably come the farthest. “That’s great. You two would make awesome parents, all in love and crap. You gonna do anything about it?”

“I think I want to marry her,” Ryan said, sounding surprised by his own confession.

“Good.” I nodded, still smiling. A waitress wandered over with our drinks on a platter, placed them gently on the table, then left.

“So what’s going on with you and Rob? You getting married any time soon?” Ryan lifted his cup to his lips, taking a relaxed sip from the edge of the mug.

I nearly choked on the drink as it stuck in my throat. “Married? No.”

He looked kind of disappointed. “Why not? You two are adorable, almost as cute as…” Ryan took a deep breath. “Almost as cute as Bryce and Kai.”

Bryce and Kai.

It had been years since I’d heard those names together. Kai had gone and killed himself three weeks into his freshman year at Stanford. I’d found myself at his funeral, just four month’s after Bryce’s, outside in the courtyard at Regent.

“I don’t want to marry him,” I replied bluntly. I hadn’t realized how true it was until I said it.

“Don’t you love him?”

“Maybe as a friend, but not like you love Max. I mean, if I found out he was pregnant, I wouldn’t be excited and happy and thinking about a proposal.” I stopped for a second, thinking.  “No, I’d probably be at home destroying my every last possession and screaming my full head off, trying to think of a way, anyway, to get out of it.”

“Well, I mean, he is a guy, so you don’t have to worry about Robert getting pregnant.”

“Yeah.”

Ryan brightened. “What about Dean?”

“What _about_ Dean?”

“Are you thinking about going out with him?”

“No, why would I be?”

“Well, you two are really close, I just figured…”

“Nothing’s going on between us. Just friends.” The words echoed in my head, and they felt wrong, almost as wrong as when I’d thought about Dean belonging to me. It just wasn’t right. _Just friends_ didn’t encompass out entire relationship, only an easy to swallow label.

“Oh.” Ryan nodded. “It’s a shame, really. I remember when you were the type to reach out there and rake what you wanted, rip it out of the hands of anyone who might stand in your way.”

“You know…” I sighed exasperatedly. “I remember when I honestly believed I wasn’t gay, too, but that doesn’t make it a good thing.”

“I know, but—“

“Drop it, Ryan. There’s not a thing between Dean and I. Hell, there’s more of a thing between you and I then there is Dean and I.”

Ryan pulled a face at that, but it didn’t really bother me. “You and me? Wow, didn’t know you felt that way.”

“I _don’t_ ,” I snapped.

“Fuck,” Ryan said breathily. “You’re so touchy today. What the hell has gotten into you?”

“Nothing has gotten into me,” I responded.

“Maybe that’s your problem,” Ryan suggested, shrugging, a touch of his coffee dripping down his chin and onto his shirt.

_Fuck._

Honestly, if Ryan hadn’t been straight as an arrow, I probably would have tried to get into his pants a long time before. He had a way of doing things that made even the most mundane tasks seem hot, sexy even.

“What’s my problem?” I asked, not missing a beat.

“Nothing’s gotten into you.” Ryan smirked. “You need to get laid, dude. By the sound of it, you’re not getting any from _anywhere_ right now.”

“That…” I blinked, part of me wanting to laugh, part of me finding the truth in the statement. “That has got to be the weirdest allusion to sex I’ve ever heard.”

“Clearly you’ve never been around Max when she’s horny.”

I stood up abruptly after his last words about his girlfriend. “That’s enough, thanks. I can deal with this on my own. I’ve gotta go check on Dean anyway.”

Ryan nodded, a smug smile resting lightly on his lips. For a moment, I was almost jealous of Max, before remembering that Ryan was _so_ not my type.

My type was hot brunets that smiled when I was being an idiot and hated my cooking. Of course, it would seem I’d fallen out of love with my type.

 

Three weeks later, Ryan announced that his wedding would take place in February, about four months from then. That way, there wasn’t a chance for Max to go into labor, but she’d hopefully be over the morning sickness. Or rather, all-the-time-sickness, as Ryan had called it with a disgusted look on his face.

It was a month after Ryan had told me about his wedding that I decided I had to break it off with Robert.

I found myself standing at his door, knocking gently, shifting from foot to foot nervously. I didn’t even know if he was going to be home because of his insane schedule.

The door opened, revealing a tousled looking Robert. “Hey, babe.”

I could almost recall why I’d fallen in love with him in the first place. It was there, on the tip of my thoughts, the top of the cup. The way he smiled at me, the way he tried to get me happily inside; he had no idea what was coming his way.

“I don’t think you’ll want me inside for this.” I looked past him at his housemates, all grinning at each other like buffoons.

His smile faltered, his toned arms falling to his sides.

“Rob, come on. Don’t do this. It’s really not your fault. This is all on me.”

A strangled “no” escaped his lips.

I gripped his shoulders tightly, like I was the only thing keeping him from falling. “You’re awesome, Rob. Really. But I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.”

“So does almost nine years really mean nothing?” he asked, his breath coming at scrambled, heightened rates.

“It means something to me, it does. I swear.”

“But this is it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry! I thought we were going to be together for the rest of our lives! I thought we’d get married, and adopt, and just grow old together.”

“Rob—“I pulled my hands back and he tipped slightly. I squeezed my eyes shut, and he must have noticed something I didn’t know I was giving.

“How long?” He demanded.

“How long what?” I responded, trying to press as much bite into my words as I could, but it came out sounding more defeated and tired.

“How long have you been fucking your roommate?”

The men behind Robert looked up at his yelling. I shrank back, stepping down a step on his porch.

“How long, Hunter?!” He yelled.

“I haven’t, I swear. I wouldn’t cheat.”

“Like hell! What about Valence, huh? Remember her? Prom, eating face out front of the school. Is Dean a little whore just like she was? Is that your type, Hunter? What does that make me, then, huh? The pity project?”

“Stop,” I gasped. “Just stop!”

“I won’t stop! This is ridiculous. Nine years down the drain. Thanks for letting me waste my time on a cheater.”

“I didn’t—“

“Fuck you.” He slammed the door in my face.

I walked back to my car slowly, dragging my feet. How badly had I fucked Robert up to make him lash out like that? What had I done to him?

My mind was reeling with the words that had been hurled at me, how fast he’d gone from the Robert I knew to vicious and cruel.

_“Does nine years really mean nothing?”_

_“Is Dean a little whore just like she was?”_

Dean was not whore. Absolutely not. I gripped the steering wheel harder, swallowing the scream I almost let out.

And I drove, with no clear destination in mind. I took the long way home, the quiet way, the way that didn’t have anything that reminded me of Robert.

I burst into my apartment with enough force that it left a dent in the wall.

“Goddammit!” I shouted, throwing my fists at things that didn’t deserve the force with which they were being slammed into the ground.

I started with one beer, which then progressed to two, then three, and it continued to escalate until I was out of beer, drunk off my ass, and someone was knocking on my door.  

“Fuck,” I said, too loudly not to be heard by the visitor. I opened my door to a very pissed off Ryan Gothe. “The hell do you want?”

“You got laid yet?” He asked gruffly, forcing his way past me.

I shook my head, not nearly as confused as I should have been thanks to the blessed alcohol that graced my system.

“You wanna be?” Ryan, straight as an arrow Ryan, didn’t wait for an answer before grabbing my face, pulling me towards him, and shoving his tongue down my throat.

“Fuck,” I hissed when he pulled back. “What’s wrong with you?”

Ryan already had his shirt up and over his head. “Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. What’s wrong with you?”

“I, uh, I’m single now,” I said, as though that answered the question.

Starting in on the buckle of his jeans with one hand, he ran his other hand across my chest and left me feeling electrified. “Good.”

I tensed as his pants hit the ground and he started to pull at the hem of my T-shirt. “Ryan.”

He didn’t answer, instead pulling it roughly over my head, and then yanking my pants down to my ankles.

“Ryan,” I repeated.

He dropped to his knees, ran his tongue along my stomach. “Couch or bedroom?”

Hands everywhere, all at once. Dick. Chest. Thighs.

Ryan forced me backwards, backing me out of the jeans that had pooled at my ankles. Next thing I know, he was kissing me, biting and sucking at the point where my throat met my shoulder. His fingers toyed with the edge of my underwear, and only then did it strike me that I was in my underwear, grinding against Ryan Gothe.

“I’m only going to ask you this one more time before I make the choice for you: couch or bedroom?” When I didn’t answer, he lifted me off the ground and made his way towards my room. “Bedroom it is.”

He slammed me against the bed, pinning my hands above my head. He crushed our lips together, and stripped me of my boxers, his following close behind.

“Fuck,” I hissed. He ground down against me, a smirk pulling at his mouth.

“That’s right.” Ryan’s mouth found another point on my throat to bite at, leaving me knowing how marked up I was going to be before he was done.

His breath was hot against my skin, his hands brushing against the head of my cock gently, teasingly. My own hands were still being restrained above my head, forcing me to stay still.

I became suddenly aware of how hard I was when he shifted swiftly from biting at my neck to holding my cock in his mouth. I arched back, shocked, surprised, and so fucking turned on.

I could move my arms again, and my fingers weaved their way into his shaggy hair, not quite as closely cropped as Dean’s, but—

Forcing myself to stop thinking about Dean, I bit back a shout as Ryan bobbed.

“That won’t do. I want to hear you scream.” Ryan said as he reared his head back.

“This isn’t your thing,” I panted.

There was a gleam in his eyes as he replied, “Then teach me.”

I was still achingly hard, and Ryan, who had stood by this point, was very clearly in a similar position, but I couldn’t bring myself to do anything further.

“Fuck,” I muttered. “This—this isn’t right, Ryan.”

Ryan looked me over for a moment before nodding. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I dropped off the side of the bed and replaced my pants, then pulled my shirt back where it belonged. “So you’re going to get dressed, then you’re going to tell me what’s going on.”

“Hun—“

“Now.”

He did just as I asked, then sat beside me on the bed.

I glanced at him, the green almost entirely depleted from his eyes as the pupil seemed to dominate it. “What’s going on?”

“Max is—I don’t know, man.” He pitched forward, his head almost between his knees. “I haven’t done anything with her in a while, and then we got in a fight—a really bad one, you know what that’s like—and then I was thinking about you and I just…I’m getting _married_ , Hunter.”

“This could have been bad.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“It’s one of those things that ends friendships.”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s not talk about it ever again.” I said.

Ryan nodded his head in agreement. “Just one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Was I any good?”

I rolled my eyes, then replied hesitantly, “Yeah. Yeah, you were.”

Ryan smiled. “Good.”

“So, are you going to be able to go home to Max?”

He nodded.

“Haven’t turned you gay?”

Ryan shook his head, his grin widening.

“Good. Now go home and fuck your fiancée.”

Ryan let out a chuckle before standing up and leaving me alone in the apartment.

 

 

I was sitting on the couch facing the door when Dean walked in. As soon as he stepped inside, a looked passed over his face and I knew he knew.

He gave me the once over, then turned away quickly. “You have hickeys. Was Robert over?”

“No,” I muttered. I thought I’d been thorough, wearing a sweatshirt, but apparently Ryan was just really good at that.

“You go to Robert’s?” Dean asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, but not for the hickeys.”

“Oh?” Dean placed his backpack on the counter and his coat on his hook, then he sat beside me. “I don’t know which part I want to hear first: hickeys or Robert’s.”

“I’d say you want to hear why I went to Robert’s first, seeing as then I won’t technically have cheated.” I continued despite Dean’s sigh and face palm. “I broke up with him, and he didn’t take it well. So, I came back here and I was hanging out and watching soccer. We’re out of beer, by the way. And then somebody came over and kind of had angry sex with me. Er, _almost_ had angry sex with me.”

“So Robert, break up, beer—that was, like, twelve beers, dude—angry sex with,” his eyes narrowed unhappily. “Who exactly did you have angry sex with?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Does too.”

“It really doesn’t. It won’t change the fact that I’m hickeyed.”

“Tell me,” Dean commanded in a voice that didn’t sound like his own.

“I—Ryan.”

I’m weak. I’ll always cave when he asks.

“Ryan?” Dean shook his head. “The Ryan getting married to Max?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, Hunter.”

“I know.”

“That was stupid of you.”

“What? Do you think I don’t know that?”

Dean’s mouth opened and shut, but no words came out.

I stretched out along the couch, draping my legs over his. “How was work?”

“Boring, as usual. Lots of data input. But, they did start jabbering about promotions, so that could be interesting.” He said, looking purposefully away from me.

“Oh, come on,” I said. “Look at me.”

“You helped a guy cheat on his fiancée.”

“Not really.”

“It’s cheating.”

“No, it’s not,” I insisted.

Dean shook his head. “Almost angry sex is cheating, Hunter.”

“It’s—“

“Cheating.”

“No—“

“Cheating!”

I stood up abruptly. “Stop saying ‘cheating’!”

“Why should I?”

“Just stop! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know that—“

I felt myself starting to lose control, traveling at light speed towards an abyss from which I would not escape. “No, Dean. No more.”

“Ryan was cheating, which means you were too, by extension.”

“I don’t cheat, Dean, you know that. You _know_ that.”

“I—“

_“Is Dean a little whore?”_

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.”

“You’re acting like a child, Hunter. You’re ignoring what’s right in front of you. Denying the obvious.”

“Dean.”

“No, you need to listen to me. You may be single now, but that doesn’t mean you can fuck whomever you fucking please. He’s getting married soon, doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

I felt myself start to tremble, shake, shiver. My voice betrayed me, sounding warning and frigid, “Dean—“

“No! You can’t explain this away—“

“What do you want me to do?” I shouted, loud enough that Dean cringed. “What does the high and mighty _Clara_ want me to do?”

And then Dean lost it. I hadn’t called him by his birth name _ever_. I always thought it was wrong to bring up the before at all, but there was no coming back from what I had said. “You know what? Fuck you, Hunter. I can’t believe I _ever_ trusted you. That was a low blow, you complete jackass.”

His arms were flailing like they did, and the next thing I knew, he stomped off towards his room.

I didn’t try and stop him.

 

“You did _what_?” Max shouted into the phone, causing me to pull it momentarily from my ear.

“Yes, I realize it was stupid. Now, how do I fix it?”

“Grovel, bitch. And don’t think I’m not pissed at you for doing that to him. You forget, I was close friends with Dean for years.” Max said, a little more calmly than her original reaction.

“I don’t know how to grovel.”

“No?”

“I’ve never had to do it.”

“Well, if you were dating, I’d say a nice kiss would do it, but you’re not. I’m gonna go with a nice movie night and dinner.”

“Forgive me, Max, but that still sounds like we’re dating?” I replied, slightly confused. It had been days since Dean had fought with me, and clearly I was getting desperate. I was talking to Max, for Christ’s sake.

“Well, yeah,” she said, sounding annoyed.

“Why?”

“Oh my god,” she said, some sort of realization settling upon her, “you don’t know. Well, if you don’t know, I can’t tell you.”

“We’re not dating.”

“No, I know.”

I shook my head, aware that she couldn’t see it through the phone. “So, just pretend like we are for a night?”

“Might work.”

“Hopefully. You two are good friends, I don’t want to see you separate. But, I mean, you are kind of a douchebag for doing this, and you’ve got to understand if he doesn’t want to talk to you again. ‘Clara’ isn’t ammunition you can use against him, Hunt. You should know that much, at least, after so many years around him. Dean left that behind. Don’t do it again.”

“I’m sorry, Max. I just…I lost control over myself.”

“How come?”

I picked at the rough material of the couch, not even thinking about what I was about to say. “He kept talking about cheating, and I guess it brought up some really unwanted thoughts.”

“Like what?”

“Well, Robert kind of…well, he kind of called Dean a whore when I broke up with him.”

“And what does that have to do with cheating?”

“Basically? He thought I was cheating on him with Dean, and he thought I cheated on him with Valence, too.”

“You cheat on Rob with Dean? Dean would kick your ass.” Max snorted.

“I know.”

“Why were you talking about cheating anyway?”

The blood ran cold in my veins. “I, uh, did something stupid.”

“What?”

“I kind of almost slept with someone I shouldn’t have.”

“Who’s that?”

“God, you’re going to be so pissed at me.” I muttered, rubbing my right temple with my free hand.

“Why?”

“Think about it for just a second, and then it’ll make sense. I’ll give you a hint though: he’s getting married in three months.”

“You slept with Ryan.” It wasn’t a question, and that somehow made it worse.

“Not really. More made out with Ryan.”

She let out a shrill laugh. “My god, it’s high school all over again.”

“What?”

“He was sleeping around when we were in high school, too. I don’t think he ever managed to quit. _God,_ ” she sighed, “why didn’t I think about that?”

“He’s not sleeping around. It was the day you two got in a fight. He was just releasing energy in a non-destructive fashion.” I replied.

“Aha.”

“It’s really not his fault.”

“Did he leave bite marks?”

“I—maybe.”

“Sure, non-destructive.”

“Look, both of us needed it. Pent up energy and emotion and everything came crashing down at once. I’m pretty sure that was the only thing that kept me from beating Dean to a pulp.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true, though. I have a temper, I’ll be the first to admit it. I was really glad when I got home from Rob’s and Dean wasn’t there because I’m pretty sure he would have been on the receiving end of my anger instead of the cheap-ass plastic figurines my cousin gave me for Christmas. Trust me when I say it wasn’t pretty.”

“You wouldn’t hurt Dean.” She sounded _so sure_ that I almost wanted to believe it, believe her. Max was so kind, so forgiving. I wanted to be the person she thought I was.

But I knew differently. “But I did, Max. I hurt him badly. The one person in the world I actually love and I go and fuck it up.”

“The one person—what?”

_Oops_. “Forget everything I just said.”

“You love him?”

“I mean, we’re _friends_ and stuff.”

“You sure?”

My heart skipped a beat. Did I love him?

_Shit_ , did I?

The fact that I had to ask, that it wasn’t an automatic _hell no_ meant that I did. I did love him.

“I’m sure.”

“So we’re talking friend love?”

“Yes,” I said, gulping air, gasping. _Is it just me or is the room heating up?_

“Alright…” She sounded unconvinced, but let it go. “So you good to grovel?”

“Probably.”

“Just don’t do it again or I’ll kick your pansy ass myself.”

“I think I could take you.”

“I suggest you not try.”

“Fair enough.” And also, if I incited her to a fight that meant that I had hurt Dean again, and I didn’t want that experience again.

“Catch you later, chicken nugget.”

“Bye, Max.” The line clicked off and I placed my cell phone carefully in my pocket. I noticed that she’d never really addressed the whole “I slept with Ryan” thing, but I really, _really_ didn’t want to get into it with her, so I let it sit.

 

“Dean!” I shouted, banging on his door.

“Go the fuck away,” came his response, accompanied by some sort of scraping that sounded like a chair.

“No, you’ve got to come out here! I didn’t go to six different stores looking for the original _Return of the_ _Jedi_ for nothing. I even have M &Ms. No green, just the way you like.”

“Original?”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” I replied. There was a scraping again, and the door opened slightly.

Dean poked his head out. “Peanut M&Ms?”

“Is there any other kind?”

He allowed himself a small smile before looking to the ground. “S’pose not.”

“Come on, man. I don’t want to be like this anymore. We’re roommates, and I—“I looked at him, thinking over what I was about to say. “I care about you a lot. You’re my best friend, and I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that, but I don’t know if you are.”

“I get what I said was wrong. Hell, I knew the second I said it. I had meant to hurt you in the moment, I’ll give you that, but I don’t want to hurt you ever again. You’re too important.”

“You sound like a girl, Hunter,” Dean said, stepping out of his room and shutting the door behind him.

“Sorry.”

“I know you are. Just,” he bit his lip (which looked excellent on him, by the way), and his eyes flitted about my face, “I need you to know that it’s not just a name to me. It never will be. You said it the same goddamn way my mother used to say it when she got pissed off and was shooting to kill. I couldn’t help making the connection, even if things are different now and you _care_ about me, and I’m not the same wussy eighteen year old I was when I left home. I can’t let you do it again.”

“Does that mean you’re going to leave?”

“You’re too important to me to just leave behind. I’ll stay, but you have to promise me you’ll never do it again.”

“Never. I swear to god I’ll never do it again.”

“Good.” Dean smiled, then threw his arm over my shoulders.

Late that night, long after he’d fallen asleep to _Return of the Jedi_ playing on repeat for six hours, I was still trapped beneath him on the sofa, unable to sleep. It wasn’t his fault, but mine. And, as tired as I was, the overwhelming need to memorize every molecule of the sight in front of me was too strong for me to overcome, leaving me awake until past midnight watching the rise and fall of his chest as he slept.

 

Ryan looked like he was about to puke. The night before his wedding, Max had stormed out with a parting, “Who the hell would want to marry Ryan Gothe?” and hadn’t returned. It was morning, and Dean and I were standing in their kitchen across from Ryan, who, as previously stated, wasn’t doing too hot.

As it was explained to me, he’d finally told her about what he’d done, and the bastard had the gall to try and defend himself. Now, don’t get me wrong, it was partially my fault, too, but he could have at least owned up to it and apologized. However, simply because he’s stubborn, he refused to apologize, instead returning her yelling with shouts of his own. This resulted in a full on screaming match with his pregnant fiancée and, again, her walking out.

“What am I going to do, Hunter?” Ryan asked, rocking against his kitchen sink.

“First things first, you’re going to shower and get dressed,” I replied. “Then we’re all going to call Max and try and bring her home.”

Ryan nodded and, without argument, did as I asked. When he returned from the shower, he found Dean seated at his kitchen table reading some cook book that neither of them had ever opened, and me looking through the contacts on my phone for Allison.

She picked up on the first ring, and started ripping into me before I could even say who it was.

“What the actual _fuck_ , Hunter? Did you think you were being _smart_ or _cute_ or something? What made you think that would be _okay_ , you complete and total dumbass?”

“Hello, again, Al.” I said, cringing at her shouts.

“Not ‘hello.’ Hello isn’t going to _cut_ it. I need a damn near _perfect_ apology. She showed up on my porch last night in _tears_ because of you and your _lack_ of self-control. You _ruined_ her wedding.” I tried to focus more on the stilted, out of sync rhythm of her voice rather than her words, but the way she said it made it harder to ignore. “I can’t _believe_ you, you arrogant ass.”

“Thanks,” I replied sourly. “It’s like I totally meant to fuck up my friends’ lives forever, ya know?”

Allison responded with some incoherent growl and hung up.

“She’s at Allison’s,” I said to Ryan.

“I’ll go get her,” Dean volunteered, setting the cookbook back on the shelf and heading for the door. “I’ll meet you guys at the lake. I _promise_ you, Ryan, you’ll get married today. I know what it’s like to be denied someone you love, and I really don’t want that to happen to you.”

He looked at me, smiled, and left.

And indeed, a wedding happened. To this day, I have no idea as to how Dean did it, but he brought Max to the lake with several hours to spare, and a grin that appeared the moment she caught sight of Ryan. It was unprecedented. Max had always been too damn stubborn to give in during an argument, and would usually kick the ass of whoever she was arguing with. But this time, she didn’t, and, in a completely uncharacteristic move, threw her arms around her groom and _apologized._

It made me happy and excited and slightly achy to see my friends so elated about their love. My own feelings, which I still didn’t understand in their entirety, couldn’t compare to what they had. Dean and I would never—could never—have what they had. He was still tied to the idea of Andrea, I knew, no matter how hard he tried to get past it.

It wasn’t until I was sitting at a table during the reception and watching Ryan and Max look so fucking _in love_ that I decided I was wrong. Dean wasn’t still caught up on Andrea, he hadn’t been for a while. There was something else there, something else that had his full attention and probably would for a while and I was pissed because I wasn’t privy to it and Max was, and even Allison and Ryan seemed to know something I didn’t know.

Max pulled me aside after dancing with Ryan in a last-ditch, desperate effort to get me to see that to which I was oblivious.

“He likes you,” she said bluntly, trapping me in a corner.

“I figured he did. I mean, Ryan and I did make out,” I replied, staring at her.

Max let out a heavy sigh, then shook her head. “That will _never_ be funny. Anyway, I don’t mean my husband, I mean your roommate.”

“In that case, my excuse has been changed to ‘well, we are roommates.’”

“You’re really not a funny man, Hunter. I know humour is your defense mechanism, but you need to fucking pull it together.”

“Isn’t it bad luck for the bride to swear in her wedding gown?”

“Shut the hell up.”

“I’m shutting up.” I leaned against the wall. “So if you’re not talking about the kind of like that comes with being a guy’s roommate for _far_ too long, then what are you referring to?”

She stared at me blankly, then frowned. “Don’t play stupid with me.”

“I’m not.”

“He _likes_ you, Hunter. For some reason, Dean likes you, loves you probably. He’s been wanting to ask you out for over a year, but you were with Robert and you two were pretty serious for a long time.”

“So he _likes me_ likes me.”

“Exactly.”

My mouth went dry. “Are you kidding?”

“No, why—“

“I have to go.” I took off in search of Dean, feeling stupid as to why I hadn’t seen it before. Of course he’d liked me all this time. It gave cause to so many things I was surprised I hadn’t put two and two together myself. I honestly couldn’t believe someone else had had to do it for me.

I found Dean sitting at a table with Allison and Max’s mom. It hadn’t escaped my notice that Ryan’s mom never showed up. Typical.

“Hey, can I borrow Dean here for a mo’?” I asked, shifting between my feet nervously.

Allison gave me her distinguished “fuck off” look, but Mrs. Gilligan seemed perfectly fine with me taking him, and that’s all that mattered to me.

“What’s up?” He said as I guided him away from the table.

“It’s really not a huge deal,” I said. “Hey, you wanna dance?”

Dean nodded, not hiding the confusion in his face.

He slipped one arm around my neck and took my hand in his. The act was so natural it was as though he’d done it a thousand times before.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, his head resting on my shoulder.

“Of course I’m alright.” I replied.

“I’d say you weren’t considering how fast your heart is beating.”

I loosened my arm around his waist and waited for him to step away, but he didn’t. “I’m just about to say something really stupid, that’s all.”

He looked up at me, a sort of resignation in his ice blue eyes. “You’re not planning to kick me out, are you?”

“No.”

“Well, you might kick me out anyway.”

Dean’s breath caught and he was suddenly too close, much too close, and his eyes engulfed my vision and his lips were so hesitantly on mine. My senses went into complete overload. The simple woodsy smell of Dean began to overpower the perfumed scent of the room and the aromatic smell of cooked garlic. It seemed to go on for minutes, hours even, and I’d never known any few seconds to last so long as those did in my life.

And just like if blue met red to create a beautiful, striking purple, we had managed to create something even more dazzling.

“Fuck,” I whispered, pulling away.

“I’m sorry, Hunter. I know—“

I cut him off, kissing him again. “You don’t anything about this, not when it comes to me.”

“I may have a thing for you,” he whispered, leaning just far enough back that he could speak unobstructed.

“I have a thing for you, too,” I replied, “but I thought you weren’t gay. In fact, I recall your insistence that you were straight on at least six serarate occasions.”

“It’s different— _you’re_ different.”

“So what do we do now?”

He kissed me again, this time his fingers lacing into the hair at the nape of my neck. “I don’t think I could ever live without at least daily kisses. You’re so fucking _addicting._ Do you have nicotine in your teeth or something?”

I chuckled softly. “I don’t actually. But daily kisses could be arranged.”

“Good.”

I leaned my forehead down against his, arching my neck downwards in a way that allowed him to keep his hands firmly in place.

We stayed like that for most of the night, to the point that there was a terrible kink in my neck by the time we started heading back to the apartment.

I was yawning as I passed throough the doorway.

“I think I’m going to bed,” I said, headed for my room.

“Hold on there, just a second,” Dean replied, grabbing my bicep. “I wanted to show you something first.”

“Show me in the morning.”

“Aw, come on,” he pleaded.

I shook my head and kept walking, pulling myself free of his grasp.

As I pulled my shirt over my head, I heard a smug sounding Dean say, “Did I ever tell you I could tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue?”


End file.
